When The Walls Come Crumbling Down
by NoTomorrow
Summary: Harry's been gone for three years, and now comes back when he finds out that his best friend has died. The people he once thought he knew seem to have changed quite a bit. Ignore book 6 & 7. Slight HPDM.
1. Chapter One

**Author's note**: Nothing's real. It's all made up. The characters belong to JK Rowling.

Three years it's been. Three years since I've killed Voldemort; three years since I've seen any of my friends; three years since I did magic. Three years I managed to hide myself from the magical world. Those three years were the best of my life. No maniac out to kill me; no one that expected anything from me and most of all no one gawking at that ugly scar that covers half of my face.

And now I'm back. Stupid, I know. I can already see you thinking: if you're so happy to be away from all that, why the hell do you even bother to come back? Good question. Let me answer that for you. Apparently I wasn't as well hidden as I though I was. Hermione found out where I live. I'm sure she found out long ago, but now she actually had a reason to contact me: Ron has died. She wants me at the funeral of her husband and would really like it if I went to visit the Weasleys as well. So here I am, outside the burrow. I didn't quite manage to knock yet. Something's holding me back. Maybe the fact that I left the magical world without saying goodbye to my best friends? I'm pretty sure they were seriously pissed at me after that. Not that I would really know, as I wasn't there to see it.

I manage to convince myself that standing outside the burrow for the rest of the day is not an option, and softly knock on the door. I stop breathing for a second as I hear footsteps approaching. Gods, why am I this nervous? It's the Weasleys, they're practically family. No need to be nervous about that. Right? The door flies open, revealing Molly.

"Harry?" Her eyes fill with tears. I nod slowly and let myself be hugged. "It's been so long." By now she's sobbing uncontrollable.

"I know, Molly, and I'm sorry but I had to get out." She shakes her head.

"Don't appologize. I completely understand that you didn't want to stay. But why didn't you say anything." She holds me at arm length and inspects me. "You look good. I was already afraid you'd look like someone who just came back from Azkaban." She pulls me closer again, hugging me tightly. "Ron would've loved to see you again. He missed you so much."

As she says this a huge wave of guilt crashes over me. Call me selfish, but I don't want to be confronted with the fact that I left them all behind.

"There didn't pass a day that I didn't think about you all, but I couldn't come back, Molly. Try to understand that." She nods against my chest.

"Don't worry, sweety. We don't blame you for anything. And we completely understand. But I..." She stops for a second to take a deep breath. "But I would give the world just to see you guys laughing and joking around again for just one more time."

At that I don't know what to say. I hug her a bit closer to me before pushing her back a bit. "Maybe we should go inside." She looks around as if she just realises now that we are in fact still outside. Nodding, she leads me inside.

Awkward is the only word that describes how I feel right now. Sitting right there, staring at me, is Ginny.

"Hey, Ginny." I whisper, not knowing what else to say. Nex thing I know she's standing right in front of me and slaps me across the face.

"If you hadn't left, he wouldn't have died! You could've saved him." Tears are streaming down her cheeks and with one final push against my shoulder she walks out of the room.

The next couple of hours kind of pass in a blur. All I really remember from it is sitting in the couch, staring out in front of me. By the time I seem to snap out of it, it's already 4am and Hermione has just arrived. I rub my eyes tiredly and can't help but wonder once again why I bothered to come back. The guilt I'm feeling seems to build up every minute that I'm sitting here, I feel completely out of place, and even though the Weasleys are really trying to be nice, I can feel that they don't all accept my sudden appearance as Molly does.

I can hear Hermione talk in the kitchen with Molly. Finally finding the courage, I push myself up off the couch and walk to the kitchen. As I'm getting closer, I can hear them talking about the funeral. I take a couple of steps back, feeling like I shouldn't bother them when they're talking about such an important matter. But then again, Hermione did ask me to come over, so she does want me here. I rub my eyes once again before coming into their view. Molly is the first to notice me and stops talking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." I quickly turn around again before Hermione's voice stops me.

"Harry, you're not bothering us." Her voice sounds tired and I can tell she's just been crying even without looking at her face. Three guesses how I'm feeling. That's right: guilty. Ginny's words still echo in my mind. If I hadn't left, he wouldn't have died. Could she be right?The silence is once again broken by Hermione's tired voice.

"Look at me?" It's not an order, more a question. Slowly I turn around and lift my head, looking straight into her eyes. My throat is starting to close up. I get the feeling that I can hardly breathe. Why am I putting myself through this? I could've been home; oblivious to everything.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." I don't even know what I'm apologising for. For leaving? For not being there when Ron apparently needed me? For being here now, when it's too late?

She shakes her head and takes a step closer, putting her hand on my arm. "I missed you." It's like she's afraid to say those words.

"I missed you too." At those words she finally hugs me, sobbing her heart out. I just hold her. What else can I do? I get the strange urge to say 'Don't worry 'Mione, everything will be all right.' but even I don't believe those words, so why would I say them out loud? In fact, it seems more like everything is once again royally messed up. Hours pass, I just can't seem to let go of her. I didn't lie. I really did miss her. And still I get the urge to just run out of there. When did I end up such a coward? I used to be able to face my problems and now... now all I want to do is run and hide. Crawl back under what ever rock I've been hiding under for the past three years.

By the time we let go of each other, it's already dark outside. Molly has left us alone, it's just us now in the kitchen. In a way it's comforting to be alone with her. During the war we spent hours together, just the two of us, either researching what ever had to be researched at that time, talking about everything and nothing, or just sitting in complete silence. Like now.

I can't say I never thought about those days. Even though there was a war going on, I was quite happy. If it had just been Hermione and Ron in my life, I would've never fled. It's all the rest of the world that made me do it. All those reporters and photographers, all those people on the street acting like they know me just because they've read a book about me. Why couldn't everyone be like Hermione and Ron? Why couldn't everyone just accept me as a simple boy who tried to survive? I'm not sure, if I could turn back time, what exactly I'd do. Stay? Or run again? 'If you hadn't left, he wouldn't have died' Those words once again echo in my mind, and suddenly I realise I haven't even asked yet what happened.

"Hermione?" She looks up at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, but she smiles a little. "What exactly happened to him?" She laughs dryly, brushing a tear off her cheek.

"He got killed during a mission. He was an auror, you know. It took him quite a while to get there, but he did. He was so happy. And now..." Her voice breaks again and she stops talking.

I look down at my hands and start to understand what Ginny meant. Ron and I used to talk about being aurors all the time. If I hadn't left, I would've been an auror as well. I could really have saved him. The guilt I've been feeling for the past hours, suddenly increases enormously.

"It's my fault." Hermione slaps me across the face after I said those words. Gods, what is it with women and slapping me?

"Don't you ever blame yourself for what happened! You didn't kill him, so nothing is your fault! The only one to blame is the person who cast that spell! Who ever that might be..." She heads for the door and turns around one more time. "Molly thought you wouldn't like to sleep in Ron's room. She set up a bed in the living room. The funeral's tomorrow. After that you can do what ever you want. Leave or stay. The choice is yours."


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's note**: The story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

Not a single second I slept that night. Everything kept spinning around in my head: Ginny's words, my conversation with Hermione, what happened to Ron. It all seems too much to take all in one. Less than 24 hours ago I was perfectly fine, and now I feel like I'm ready to be put in a mental ward. Had I known I was going to feel this horrible; I'm not sure if I would've ever even bothered to show up. Who am I kidding; I'm _sure _I wouldn't have showed up. No turning back now, though. In a couple of hours it's Ron's funeral. That won't be exactly a joy ride either.

I slowly get dressed and sit down at the kitchen table. No one's up yet. No surprise there. It's hardly 5a.m. Everyone is probably still asleep or just lying awake in bed. Hermione got up at least 20 times this night. Apparently I'm not the only one who didn't get any sleep. No surprise there, really. I'm sure that girl hasn't slept a single minute since she found out her husband had passed away. At least that's how she looks like.

Two hours have passed when I finally hear someone coming down the stairs, clearly in bare feat as the steps are very softly. I turn around as the person enters the kitchen. Ginny looks at me for a split second before stalking off to the living room, not once looking back at me. This night I had a lot of time to think things over; and honestly, I haven't gotten a lot further with it. All I did realise is that I seriously need to talk with Ginny. We used to be such a great friends, and now... we're not, to say the least. Don't get me wrong. I didn't come back to this place thinking everything was going to be as it was before I left. I can be oblivious, but I'm not _that _oblivious. Even I have a certain sense of reality that goes at least that far. I push myself up and make two cups of tea. Apparently a person calms down and gets a certain feeling of trust when you offer them something to eat or drink. I usually don't believe in these things, but I think this situation is worth a try.I take the two cups and walk to the living room, where Ginny is sitting wrapped in a huge blanket.

"Hey Ginny." She looks up.

"Oh, it's you." The anger in her voice makes me cringe. "I don't think you and I have anything to say, so you might as well leave again."

I ignore her advise and set down the two cups of tea before taking a seat in front of her. "I want to talk to you." She looks away and shakes her head.

"Forget it. Everything I had to say to you, I said yesterday. But clearly you didn't seem to get the message." She pulls the blanket a little higher up to her chin. You're to blame, Harry. Only you. If you had stayed, he wouldn't have died. Don't you see? He didn't really want to be an auror anymore when you weren't there to do the same. But he did it, because he never thought there was another option. He expected you to always be there for him, to always have his back. And he would be there for you. But no, you had to go and ruin it all." She shakily takes the cup of tea and takes a sip. "It took him a lot longer than most wizard to become an auror. Why? Because he wasn't motivated of course. He did it to please mum and Hermione. He couldn't just come home one day and say he didn't want to do anything at all just because his best friend ran off to God knows where, now could he?" She puts the cup down again and gets up. "You ruined it for him. After the funeral, I don't want to see you ever again, Potter."

The fact that she used my last name hurt a lot more than the rest of everything she said so far. She hates me. She really hates me. I had never imagined things could get this bad between us. I guess I was wrong.

Right after a very awkward lunch we left for the funeral. Hermione hasn't said a single word all day and Ginny keeps shooting dirty looks my way. I don't think I've ever felt this uncomfortable. It's not just Hermione and Ginny. The rest of the Weasleys really try their best to make me feel at home but it's just not the same. The look in their eyes is just so dead. I just can't stand looking them in the eyes while talking to them. I can only guess what they think about me. Do they pity me? Are they angry? Are they only hiding the fact that they actually don't really want me to be here? I wouldn't be surprised.

The awkwardness apparently hasn't come to an end yet. If I thought lunch was awkward, well, I don't know how to call the funeral then. This is a thousand times worse. It seems like everyone's watching me. I could deal with the Weasleys looking weirdly at me, but I'm not sure if I can deal with half of the wizard population doing the same. All I want to do is leave but I'm kind of at the front row along with the rest of the Weasleys, and to be able to get out of here, I'd have to push my way through all those people, which would only lead to even more people gawking my way.

As I wander my eyes across the crowd I can't help but notice a blond head about half way. Blond as in ... Malfoy-blond? No, that couldn't be. Could it? Why would Malfoy be at the funeral of Ron? Maybe it's just someone who happens to have the same hair color as the Malfoys. A Malfoy-wannabe. But then again, who the hell would ever want to be like Malfoy?

A jab in my ribs snaps me back to the reality. I look accusingly in Hermione's direction while rubbing the now sore spot.

"The least you could do is pay attention. Don't worry, in less than an hour you can get out of here and never show your face again." She hisses before looking back in front of her. Tears are slowly sliding across her cheek. She's not sobbing, or leaning onto someone for support, as I expected her to do. I've always known her as a very emotional girl. During our years in Hogwarts she could never keep her emotions in check. And now... now she doesn't even cry openly at the funeral of her own husband.

I get the sudden urge to pull her closer to me, but I seriously doubt she'll appreciate that. After all, I haven't been there to hold her during the hard times for three years. I seriously doubt she still sees me as one of her best friends. To her, I'm probably a stranger now. Just as she seems to be a stranger to me. Nothing she does now, reminds me of our youth. She's changed so much.

People start go leave, and embarrassingly I realise that I've hardly been paying attention to the funeral. Why is it that Ron's death does so little to me? Shouldn't I be feeling horrible? I watch the Weasleys walk along with the crowd, every now and stopping to talk to someone. I stay back a bit, I don't think I really have the right to be walking with Ron's family. I don't fit in anymore, that I'm sure.

In the corner of my eye I notice the blond I noticed before standing a couple of metres away from me. I turn around and notice that it is in fact Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, that is. He seems to notice that someone is looking at him and turns his head my way. I've got to say, I didn't expect him to react the way he does. I had expected hate, even disgust maybe. I never expected him to just look... shocked. Not that I blame him. I have been gone for quite a while after all.

He nods his head at me. "Potter." There's no hate or disgust in his voice at all. He sounds surprised.

"Malfoy." I nod back at him before sighing and looking away. Even Malfoy isn't the way I thought he was anymore. The only constant in my life, seems to have changed as well.

"I hadn't expected to see you here." I shrug, not looking back at him.

"Hermione asked me. Who am I to deny her that." He looks at me, once again with a shocked look on his face.

"You wouldn't have showed up otherwise?!" His voice is now clearly filled with emotions. I turn to look at him and sigh again.

"Malfoy, I didn't know anything of what was going on around here. If Hermione hadn't asked me, I wouldn't even have known." He nods understandingly while looking down at his feet. A couple of minutes we just stand next to each other, not saying a word.

"Why aren't you leaving with the Weasleys?" I look around, noticing that the Weasleys seem to be getting ready to go home. I shrug again and start picking at my shirt.

"They don't want me there with them. I don't fit in anymore. Not that I had expected them to just accept me." I let go of my shirt and look him straight in the eye. "I'm leaving this evening. No one wants me here, so why would I stay?" I look away again and rub my eyes. "I shouldn't have showed up."

"Where exactly have you been these past years?"

"Practically in the middle of no where, living like a muggle." That shocked look on his face is back.

"Like a muggle? Why?! You're like the greatest wizard ever! Why not use your powers?"

"I don't want those powers. Not anymore. I can live without them. What's it to you anyway?" This time it's him that shrugs.

"I don't know..." He pauses for a moment. "If you don't want to stay with the Weasleys, you're free to stay at my place for a while. That is, if you want to of course."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm going home again." With those words I start walking away from him.

"The offer stays open!" I hear him yell. I smile a little, shaking my head.

I shove my hands in the pockets of my trousers. All I've got to do now, is going and pick up my stuff at The Burrow and then I can go back to the peaceful life I've been living for three years now.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's note**: The story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

A week it's been since the funeral. And all I've been doing this week is think. Think about all kinds of stuff. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you want to know _what_ I've been thinking about?

First of all I started thinking about Ginny. You know, since she blamed me for Ron's death. I have to admit her words stung me quite a bit, but when it comes down to it: am I really to blame for his death? I do not think so.

It this were to be an NCIS-episode (Yes I watch NCIS, sue me), I wouldn't come remotely close to being a suspect. And why not you ask? There're plenty of reasons. Not being seen for three years, living hundreds of miles away, being on my work while said murder took place AND not having a single motive to kill Ron seems to be enough evidence to make me completely innocent.

But then again, this is no NCIS-episode. In fact, if this were to be an NCIS-episode, those people would be pretty confused. After all, Avada Kedavra doesn't exactly leave a cause of death. During the autopsy he'd seem perfectly healthy. Apart from the fact that he's dead of course.

I do see where Ginny gets her accusation from though. Ron and I did always talk about wanting to be Aurors and I'm sure if I had been there I would've covered his back. But since I wasn't there (heel, I didn't even start the training) Ron should've gotten the point that I was nowhere around to cover his back, which leads once again to my complete innocence.

Another reason why she accused me might be the fact that she seems extraordinary mentally unstable (which would explain the slapping and yelling at innocent people) but I'm no psychiatrist, so that's only a guess.

The second topic I spent my time thinking about is my very noticeable lack of emotions during Ron's funeral. I didn't really get very far with that. I can't seem to find a single reason why I didn't burst out in tears, or couldn't even keep my mind at the funeral. I still think of Ron as a friend. I've known him for too long to see him as just another stranger who died.

I've got to admit though, our friendship was kind of based on the wrong things. He was the first person who was ever nice to me, so obviously I wanted to be his friend! And Ron always responded weirdly when it came to me being Harry Potter. Either he was awefully proud to be my friend or he couldn't stand me because he was jealous. Completely understandable of course. Being locked up in a cupboard for eleven years and then being chased after by a lunatic for ten years really is something to be jealous about.

As you can tell, the foundations of our friendship weren't all that strong. We did have some stuff in common and I guess that kind of made us stick together. But I can't say that I've really missed him in the three years that I was away from him. At least I didn't have to deal with his mood swings anymore. Is that a rude thing to say? I guess it is. Especially since he's dead. Not a bad word about the dead, right? But I guess that saying kind of went down the drain when I killed Voldemort. After all, no one's ever saying anything nice about him.

Next is Hermione being awefully cranky during the funeral but _not_ crying her eyes out, as I expected. As far as I know those two were madly in love with each other. After all, they've been tiptoeing around each other since first year. And if someone loses someone they love, they usually burst out in tears, right? After all, watching the one you love being put six feet under isn't exactly a very pleasant view. Hermione's always been a very emotional girl, which only makes her lack of emotions during the funeral more unnerving. I didn't really find a good reason why that would be. I am after all - as I mentioned before - no psychiatrist.

I've got to say, this kind of triggered my curiosity. If you ask me, something happened during my absence, and I really want to know what. Tough luck I'd have to go back to find out. And I'm not exactly up for that. My little visit wasn't exactly what I'd call pleasant, and when I left, Molly was the only one to wave me goodbye. One would start thinking, I wasn't wanted there... my question then is: why the hell did they invite me?!

Anyways, since I didn't get very far with Hermione and my questions around her, off to my next topic: MALFOY. What the hell is up with him? Him being weird the first time: his presence at the funeral. Him being weird the second time: talking to me. Him being weird the third time: inviting me to his home. Well, I'm stuck with him. I have no idea what's going on in that blond head of his and I definitely don't know what made him so awefully nice. I have to say, it _is_ a nice change. A great alternative for his usual stuck-up behaviour.

There aren't a lot of things I'm sure of, concerning all four of these topics. But I did seem to realise that I won't get any questions if I stay here in the middle of no where, cut off from everything magical. Maybe I should take up on Malfoy his invitation. He did yell after all that the invitation stays open. It's been a couple of days I've had the idea of staying at Malfoy's, just to get answers to all my questions. And apparently banging my head against the table several times, did not help to get that idea out of my head. Conclusion: Visiting Malfoy is the only way to the answers I want.

I pick up a piece of paper and start writing.

_Malfoy,_

_how about that invitation? Still open? _

_Potter_

I quickly write my address on the little piece of paper before folding it up. That's all that needs to be said. If he wants to know more, he's going to have to let me stay with him. The address of course in neccessary, otherwise he wouldn't be able to answer me.

I slap myself across the head, as I realise that Malfoy doesn't really have a regular address, and that I'll have to drag my ass all the way to Diagon Alley to send the note by owl. Should've thought of that before... stupid.

Three hours later I watch the owl fly away with my note, before I quickly walk back before anyone recognises me.


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's note**: the story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

I got an answer the very next day. It didn't say much:

_Invitation still open._

_Be at the Manor at 7pm_

Who am I to deny him that? After all, he is letting me stay at his place. And he will help me with all the questions that have been spinning around in my head since the funeral.

So here I am, in front of Malfoy Manor on a Monday evenining at 7.30pm. Yes, yes, I know, half an hour too late. I didn't do it on purpous! I just lost track of time.

The door opens, reveiling one very grumpy Malfoy.

"You're late."

"I know." He looks dumbly at me.

"Why?" I shrug. What can I say? I was staring at my wall a bit too long? I don't think he'd really like that answer.

"Well, you're here now. Come on in." He holds the door open, letting me pass by. "Just leave your trunk here. The elfs will take it up to your room." Wow, he really seems to take this host-thingy seriously. Not complaining though!

I let go of my trunk and look around. Only two words can describe this interiour: stylish and expensive!

"You like it here?" I nod, trying not to gawk all too much.

I can't help but wonder, if the hall already looks this great, how the hell will the rest of the house look like?! But I guess I'll find that out in the next couple of days.

"I made dinner, so if you're hungry feel free to join." I nod once again and follow him to the dining room. "It's nothing fancy. I just made some pasta." I smile politely at him.

"Don't worry, I'm already surprised you cook at all." Alright, that's probably not a very polite thing to say.

He laughs uncomfortably. "Well, since I nearly got poisoned by a house elf about a year ago, I don't really trust them around anything I have to swallow anymore." I feel all the color drain from my face. That's not exactly the answer I had expected.

Dinner's awkward, to say the least. Twenty minutes of silence does start to work on your nerves. I cough softly, finally succeeding in pulling Malfoy's focus off of his plate.

"So tell me, what made you invite me to your home." He places his knife and fork next to his plate and takes a sip of the glass of red wine in front of him.

"You looked so terribly lost at the funeral, like you didn't know what the hell was going on."

"That's because I didn't." He laughs softly. "well, of course I did know what was going on at that moment. The funeral of your best friend doesn't quite go by unnoticed. But apart from the funeral... there were so many things I didn't understand at all."

"That's what I was thinking. You act all tough, pretending you don't need the wizard world, but you're not fooling me. It hurts to know that Ginny can't even stand to look at you anymore, and Hermione has changed so much. She might just be a complete stranger." He looks back down at his plate and takes another sip of wine. "And I could use the company."

At least one thing hasn't changed. When we were kids Malfoy could always figur me out, and apparently he still can. Thinking about these things is one thing, but actually hearing it from someone else, that's another. That goes straight through the heart.

"That makes two of us." He looks strangely at me. "I could use the company as well." I lift up my glass as if making a toast and wink. He returns the gesture and motions to the living room.

"Let's take this conversation somewhere more comfortable."

The rest of the night was filled with small-talk and next thing I know it's way past midnight.

"It was fun talking, Malfoy, but I think I'm off to bed." He gets up and motions to the only door in the room.

"Let me lead you to your room."

--

Three days passed by like that, until Malfoy finally decided to start asking questions... just my luck.

"So tell me, Potter, why exactly did you leave?" I look up from the book I'm reading.

"I'm still here... didn't leave yet." Nice one, Harry. Let's play dumb, that might get him to stop... not.

"Not funny. Why did you leave the wizarding world?" I sigh and place my book on top of the arm rest. Why couldn't he just let that rest. He could ask _anything_... except that. So typical Malfoy to go asking the one thing he shouldn't.

"I was just fed up with it, I guess." Be a dear, and let it rest, Malfoy. I'm _begging_ you!

"I don't believe that." Or not...

"That's your problem." I open my book and start reading again.

"You're going to have to tell me some day. I will find out sooner or later." He really can't get a hint, can he?

"I'd rather have it later."

"Just tell me! What do you have to loose? all you've got right now! Take advantage of that for god's sake! I'll just listen. I won't even comment on what ever you say."

Have you ever hated someone so much, that you felt like torturing them in the most horrible way? Like, you'd actually start giggling if you saw them writhing in pain? You know very well that you wouldn't like it all that much if it would be happening in real life, but thinking about it can feel so frickin' good. You know what I mean? Yes, well, that's how I feel about Malfoy right now. Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on actually hurting him. By tomorrow I probably will have forgotten all about this temporary hatred, but right now it's like it's rushing through my veins. I can feel it all through my body.

"What do you want to hear?! That I felt useless?!" Great, now he's gawking at me.

"You felt... what?" And there goes the hatred... now I'm just sad and want to cry out on his shoulder.

I sigh again and place my book, once again on the arm rest. "No need to rub it in Malfoy."

"I'm not rubbing it in. I just don't understand. Why would _you_ feel useless? You saved the wizarding world from one very creepy maniac! You're very useful. Believe me."

"But that's the thing! It's over... he's gone. I did what they wanted me to do, and now what? Pick up my life, like anyone should? I don't even have a life goal anymore."

"I really don't get it. You should be happy you can finally live a normal life."

"I know! That's another reason. I thought something was wrong with me. I just had to get out." He nods understandingly. Well, at least I think it's understandingly. He might just be nodding to make me think that he understands. What the hell, that's completely off the subject. Focus, Harry. Malfoy said something and you completely missed it. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, you should've talked to your friends before taking the easy way out." The easy way out? Excuse me, but leaving like that wasn't exactly easy!

"Just... drop it, Malfoy. You don't understand." I get up and wave him goodnight.

His voice echos through the house as I make my way up the stairs. "We will talk about this tomorrow!" I shake my head and chuckle slightly. That man just doesn't realise when to stop, does he?


	5. Chapter Five

**Author's note**: the story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

Well, apparently, Malfoy's not one to lie. We are after all once again talking, just as he yelled at me last night. Talking actually is a big word. Let me describe the scene to you a bit:

First of all the location: we are situated in the library, still in Malfoy Manor. Why in the library? I don't really know. Malfoy demanded for me to show up here, so here I am.

Malfoy is sitting at this way too big desk, wearing glasses (I know! Who knew Malfoy wears glasses. That's like... a flaw. Who would've thought.), and looking straight at me. Not just looking really. I swear, if looks could kill, I'd no longer be telling you about what's going on!

I am sitting at the other side of the room, trying to ignore him: A book is lying open in my lap and I am doing my best to concentrate on the letters spread out on the page: not succeeding! Let me tell you, when a very angry Malfoy is staring at you, looking like he's about to rip your head off, you can't really concentrate on reading a book. That does not mean, that I'm actually looking his way. I'm not giving him that much credit.

"God damned, Potter! Look at me!" Alright, that might do the trick!

"What do you want?" To you people, that might sound like I am responding in the most calm way possible. Guess again. I got the feeling my heart is going to beat right out of my chest, and I don't seem to be having my breathing all that much in check. I think I even jumped up about half a meter, but I'm not sure about that. After all, no one was measuring...

"Just...," He throws up his hands frustratingly, and stands up before pacing back and forth behind his desk. "talk to me! Apparently bringing up Hermione and Ginny hits a nerve. And you are not just here for my company. That much is sure. After all, you have been ignoring me more, than you've been talking to me," He sits down again and starts tapping his fingers against the oak surface of the desk. "what's on your mind. Just... let me in!"

"Why? Why do I have to talk when you are obviously shutting out everyone trying to get close to you? Where are all your friends from school? Where's Pansy, huh? She was like a fly hanging around you, you just could not get rid of her! And what about your body guards, huh? Crabbe and Goyle? They don't seem to be anywhere around either. You haven't even _mentioned_ them! So don't you go on and bitch about me not talking, when you are doing the exact same bloody thing!" Wow...where did that come from.

Great, now he's gawking at me. He actually looks he could black out anytime soon. Did _I_ hit a nerve this time?

"You don't know anything." Is that bitterness I hear in his voice. "You don't know what we've all been going through after the wall, so don't you dare talk about my life!" O-kay, maybe I went a bit too far.

I sigh and close the book (is anyone having a déjà vu here?) and look up at him. "Look, I'm sorry, alright. I have no right to be asking about your life. And I'm sorry, I really am. But please, try to understand me as well. I want to talk. I really do, but I'm not sure how you'll feel about that."

"What do you mean, how I'll feel about that? I'm asking! I would love it if you would open up a bit!" He's got a point there...

"I know, but you'll probably think I'm a coward, and act like everyone else: pissed off and bitter about it. I don't think I can handle this. I like it here, and you're talking to me like a normal person. Not like someone I abandoned."

"Like the Weasleys."

I look down. "Yeah, like the Weasleys." I clear my throat and look up again. "But don't worry about it. I'm fine. I don't need to talk about it to make me feel better and I definitely don't need the Weasleys! I've been doing great for three years without them, what would make the difference now."

"Harry, you are not doing well without them. Well, you are doing alright without them, but it hurts you! You obviously didn't expect them to accept you again with open arms, you're not that dense, but something must've happened. You're fighting against tears every time I mention Hermione -"

"Yet you do it over and over again."

"_Don't_ interrupt me. As I was saying: you're fighting against tears every time I mention _her_. Something must have happened apart from you leaving them."

I close my eyes for a split second before starting to talk. "If you insist." I rub my eyes tiredly – a habit that seems to have kicked in my first day at the Weasleys – and fold my hands in my lap. "It all happened two weeks after the war ended. I guess you're aware that I stayed at the Weasleys back then." A single nod confirms this. "Yes, well, one day I heard Hermione and Ron talk about me. I know, I know, I shouldn't have eavesdropped but it made me aware of quite some things."

_**flashback**_

"Ron, what exactly are you trying to say?" I'm not sure what exactly made me stop and listen behind the corner: the obvious distress in Hermione's voice or the fact that there's actually something she doesn't seem to understand.

"I'm just saying that I don't what's going on in that head of his." I can practically _hear_ Ron shrug.

"Harry just needs time, Ron. Don't act like this. He's your friend."

"He hasn't talked to us for weeks! Great friend he is."

"You can not be serious about it. You're just being jealous again! He's getting all the attention, your mother does everything for him, and you just feel pushed back again." I always knew Hermione was the smartest one of the three of us. She always seems to be able to figure us out.

"I'm not jealous! He's just being a pain, damned! Don't you see?! He's being pathetic!" Let me tell you, hearing those words come out of your best friend's mouth does hurt, a lot. It's like someone had ripped my heart out and stomped on it right in front of my eyes. I had a heavy feeling in my stomach. I didn't want to listen to them anymore, but I couldn't force myself to leave either. It's like some kind of invisible force was keeping me there.

"He's just trying to deal with everything. The war really left scars on him and -"

"It didn't on us? We lost people too, you know. He didn't fight all by himself. We were all there to fight with him, but we're still talking, aren't we? We're still acting the way we were before." A long silence followed those words. My mouth had dropped open by then and my legs had given up on me. Can you imagine it: me sitting on the floor behind a corner, with eyes and mouth wide open.

After about five minutes Ron breaks the silence once again. "I'm sick of having to watch out what I say around him, and I don't want to babysit him anymore like mom makes me do. I want to spend my free time with you. I want to be able to lead my own life. I don't want to give up my own life just to make his better."

I then found the strength back to get me to move. I'm not entirely sure how I got to my room, and packing my trunk all seems like a big blur to me now, but I somehow managed to do so.

That same night I left. I didn't even leave a note.

_**End flashback**_

"That day I realized I was just walking in their way. They didn't want me there. No more room for Harry in their lives." I stop for a second and take a sip of the glass of whiskey Malfoy hands me. "I cried for weeks after that. I felt so awful. It's like, since I killed Voldemort, they didn't need me anymore. It took me about a year to accept the way my life turned out. I managed to convince myself that I didn't need them anymore. I started talking then again. Mainly to myself since no one else was around, but I _did_ talk. I was doing alright, but then Ron had to go and get himself killed, bringing this entire mess up again." I shake my head frustratingly. "and now here I am, spilling my guts, to the least person I ever expected to have such an open talk with."

A comfortable silence follows my rant. I guess we both don't have anything to add to that. After a while I push myself up from the couch and start heading to my bedroom. As I'm halfway the hall, I hear him yell: "I don't think you're a burden!"


	6. Chapter Six

**Author's note**: The story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

Even though I felt exhausted by the time I dragged my ass all the way to my room, I'm still fully awake and it's already 4am. In bed everything suddenly came back to me: the first couple of weeks after the war, how I felt when I heard Hermione and Ron's conversation, the long nights I spent alone in my house,... I've never really talked about it. In three years I've hardly talked to anyone, and when I did talk to anyone, it was a Muggle. They wouldn't be asking any difficult questions, that's for sure. I don't know, but ever since the war, I prefer running from my problems than facing them. Maybe that's because my last problem I faced – Voldemort – wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

I slowly climb out of bed again. Maybe a walk will help me clear my head. After all, Malfoy Manor is more than big enough to take a nice walk.

After a while I pass the library where Malfoy and I were talked only a couple of hours ago. To my big surprise there's light coming from under the door. I walk to the door and press my ear against it. There's not much to hear. All I can hear is something that sounds like ice cubes swirling around in a glass. I knock sofly and wait for an answer. The only one that could be in there is Draco after all.

"Leave me alone." I almost missed the soft voice coming from the other side of the door. I push the door open a bit and look inside.

"Are you OK?" Malfoy's still sitting at his desk, a glass filled to the top with whiskey in his hand.

"Just leave, Potter. I don't want to talk about it." I think I've heard those words before. Oh, that's right. I've said them! And did he accept that answer then? I do not think so!

"Come on, Malfoy, I just told you my entire sob story, now it's your turn."

"That's the whole thing!" He jumps up, knocking his glass over during the process, and stalks over to me. He pushes me in the seat I sat in before and kneels down so he's about at the same height as I am. "If things had been going different between us, then you could've stayed here! If we were friends you would've never had to go through all that! You wouldn't even have _had_ a sob story." I can clearly smell the alcohol as he breaths in my face. Pushing him back a bit I take a deep breath of clear oxygen.

"Draco, what the hell are you talking about?! You're drunk, sleep first, we'll talk tomorrow."

"No! No, don't try to get rid of me. Listen to me. Think about it, if we were friends during Hogwarts, things would've gone so different. I would've never wanted to get rid of you. _Never_. I mean, who would ever get rid of you? You're nice, and you always want to help people, not to mention-" He suddenly stops talking and takes a step back, holding his stomach.

"Malfoy, if you have to throw up, please don't do it on me." I push myself further in the couch, trying to get as far away as possible from him.

A couple of seconds later he shakes his head and kneels down again. "I'm fine. Anyways, can you imagine how different our lives would've been?" I shake my head. I mean, I can't! It's _not_ different, so how can I know what it would be like if we had been friends?

He grabs my knees and looks me straight in the eyes. "I would've loved to be friends with you! As a child, it was all I dreamed of! But then I had to go and be a jerk, and of course you rejected my friendship. I mean, everyone would've rejected me back then. They still do actually, but that's besides the point. I was just wondering... could you give me another chance?" Well, this is unexpected.

"Malfoy, Draco, we'll talk again when you've slept a bit. You're obviously drunk, and to be honest, what ever I answer, I'm quite sure you won't remember it tomorrow anyways." He puts his head in my lap and nods.

I softly stroke his blond locks. "Come on, let me take you to your bed." He gets up slowly and looks at me with teary eyes. "What?"

"You're rejecting me again." Oh no...

"No! No, Draco, I'm not, I just think we should talk about this when you're sober. One: you'll remember it. Two: you will actually realize what you're saying when you're sober." A single tear slips down his cheek. Who would've thought Malfoy gets this emotional when drunk?

"You are rejecting me! You're just too coward to say so! What happened to your bravery?! Just say what's on your mind!" By now he's yelling, and tears are streaming freely down his cheeks.

I get up and place my hands on his shoulders. "Draco, I am not rejecting you. I just think we should talk about this when you're sober." He wraps his arms tightly – actually quite painfully – around my waist, what I assume is supposed to be a hug and nods against my chest. After a while he lets go of me and wipes off his cheeks.

"I think I ruined your shirt." I look down and notice the obvious stains of tears and... snot?

"Don't worry about it. Just... let's get you to bed."

"Will you walk me to my room?"

"Sure." I watch as he takes a couple of steps towards the door. Good thing, the wall was only three steps away, or he would've definitely fallen on his face.

Once we're in the hall, I wrap my arm around his waist, supporting him all the way to his room. The entire way he's talking to me. Or, at least, what's supposed to be talking. It's more like he's mumbling to himself. I hardly understand a word of it. Though, I did here him mumble something about his 'father turning in his grave'.

As we finally reach his door – it seems like it took us hours to finally get there – he hugs me again. "I'm really glad you're here, Harry." He then kisses my cheek and enters his room. "Do you promise we'll talk?"

"Of course."

"Remind me of this conversation tomorrow, will you? I've got the feeling I won't really remember it." I chuckle slightly and push softly all the way in his room.

"Good night, Draco."

"Night, Harry." I can't help but smile as he closes the door.

Looking down at my watch I realize that it's already past 5am. I take one last glance at the closed door of Draco's room before heading back to my own. As I reach my room I make a mental note to bring Draco a hang over potion first thing in the morning. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Author's note**: The story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

It's already way past noon when I finally decide to wake Malfoy up. I have to say, I hardly slept at all, Malfoy's words kept on spinning in my head. And I can't help but wonder what he was going to say before he was about to get sick. Probably nothing important, but still...

I knock softly at the door. All I get as an answer is a painful grunt. Pushing open the door I see Malfoy sprawled out in his bed in the most undignified way possible. The blankets are all heaped up on top of his chest, leaving his legs bare, his left arm is dangling over the side of the bed, while his other disappears under the pile of blankets. From where I'm standing, though, I can see that his hand is buried inside his boxers. And no, I don't want to know what it's doing there, but I'm sure if I'd ask, he'd have a great excuse for it. His pillow has a huge wet stain on it just where is mouth is – clearly he's been drooling all night long.

"Malfoy?" Another grunt lets me know that he is in fact aware of my presence. "I brought you a hang-over potion." I walk up to the side of the bed and slap his softly across the cheek, trying to get him to open his eyes.

"What?" I take a step back as I smell his breath. An awful mix of morning breath and alcohol hits me straight in the face.

"Come on, sit up, so you can drink this." Grudgingly he pushes himself up, leaning heavily against the head board – finally taking his hand out of his boxers.

I hand him the vial and watch how he gulps it all down greedily. He shakes his head before looking up at me. "Thanks." He sighs heavily and stares out in front of him. "What exactly happened yesterday?"

I chuckle softly before telling him the entire story. The most entertaining during this process is the change of emotions on Malfoy's face. First surprise, than disgust – this is when I told him about him getting sick - then sheer horror. "But I've got to say, I was pleasantly surprised when you told me all that." And there's the surprise again.

"You can't possibly mean that. I was drunk out of my mind and you were _pleasantly surprised_?"

"Sure, but go and clean yourself up a bit, we'll talk some more when you're a bit more pleasant to look at." He looks down at himself before turning sickly pale again.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you saw me like this." With those words he dashes out of bed and runs to his bathroom, slams the door shut as hard as possible. I chuckle again and shake my head before heading downstairs. That guy is one of a kind.

Exactly two hours and a half later he enters the living room where I am - once again – reading a book. "What is it with you and those blasted books?" His voice still sounds a bit raspy, and he doesn't look all that awake, but at least he doesn't smell anymore.

"I just like reading." He looks at me stupidly.

"Who the hell enjoys _reading_."

"I do, and so does Hermione." He snorts and plops down next to me.

"Yeah, and she's a great role model." I look down at my book, not having an answer to that. I can see him look at me from the corner of my eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

I shrug. "You're right about her, so no need to apologize."

For a couple of minutes nothing is said, both content with just being in each others presence. After a while Malfoy drops his head on my shoulder and sighs heavily. "I feel horrible."

"No shit. I don't even _want_ to know how much you drank last night." He closes his eyes and snuggles a bit closer against me.

"What exactly did you mean when you said you were pleasantly surprised?" I close my book and look down at him.

"Just like I said... I was pleasantly surprised."

"Yes yes, I know, but what were you pleasantly surprised about? The fact that I was too drunk to even stand on my own feet, or the fact that I told you I've admitted that I've always wanted us to be friends?"

I think for a couple of seconds before grinning and saying: "Both." He pokes me sharply in my side making me hiss.

"I'm glad that me spilling my darkest secret entertains you."

I put my hand on his head and stroke his hair softly. "You shouldn't think about it that way. You're funny when you drunk, so that was pleasant. And you spilling your so called 'darkest secret' was a pleasant surprise because I'm _glad_ you feel that way."

He sits up quickly and looks me straight in the eyes. "Say that again..."

"I'm glad you feel that way." He looks at me with this strange look in his eyes.

"Do you really mean that?" He whispers.

"Of course. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Yes you would." I laugh out loud before pulling him against me again.

"Okay, I would. But not about this." I feel him smile against my shoulder. "You believe me, don't you?"

He nods and kisses me against the neck. A kiss a lot more intimate than that he probably meant. After all, it's the only place he can reach. Deciding not to react to fiercely I just let him snuggle up closer against me again and place my arm across his shoulder. Soon his soft snores are the only sound that can be heard in the entire room.

That evening when Malfoy – or should I say Draco now? - has finally woken up again we were once again trying to find a way to kill the time.

We're both sitting in the dining room having dinner. Draco's sitting in front of me. He decided it would be a good idea to spread his legs – his knees are hurting, or so his says – and since the only way to do that is by putting his feet on my thighs, that's where they are right now. And who am I to deny him that bit of comfort. If his knees are hurting I can't make him suffer, now can I?

"I want to get to know you better." I look up at him, finally pulling my attention away from the feet that are on my thighs.

"You already know me quite well." He nods.

"That's true. But I want to get to know you better. Let's play 20 Questions. That way at least I'll have a basic idea of what makes the Boy Who Lived tick." I look up at him, finally pulling my attention away from the feet that are on my thighs.

"Uhm... okay?"

"Okay." Grinning he pushes his plate away from him before looking straight in my eyes. "What did you do for a living when you were living as a Muggle?"

I cringe. Of course he'd ask questions like that. "I worked in a pub." He looks at me.

"You're kidding me right?"

"That's another question. And no, I'm not kidding you." He hufs as he realises he just gave away a question.

"Okay... uhm..."

"Don't tell me you're out of questions yet." He waves his hand at me, obviously telling me to shut up. Now that's the Malfoy I know.

"What happened between you and Ginny to make her hate you so much?"

Swallowing thickly I look down at my plate. "If I tell you this you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone." He nods, realising that what I'm about to say is very important.

"You know that Ginny and I dated for a while, right?" He nods. "And that we broke up because things didn't seem to work out for us?" He nods again.

"Well, a month before the final battle, about a week after our break up, she came crying to me telling me that we had to talk in private. It wasn't the first time that had happened so I didn't think too much about it. The moment we were alone though, she started sobbing uncontrollably. She told me she was pregnant, and that she didn't know what to do. Her mother would kill her." I take a sip from the glass of wine in front of me, my throat suddenly awfully dry.

"I told her everything was going to be fine. That I was going to take care of her and the baby. That seemed to calm her down a bit. During the battle someone fell against her, his elbow digging in her stomach." I stop talking for a second, trying not to burst into tears.

"She lost the baby right then and there. And I wasn't there for her. I found out when everything was over. She blamed me for it. Why? I don't know. She said I had promised her to take care of her and the baby, and I didn't. She never forgave me for it. Now she just grabs every opportunity she gets to express her hatred towards me."

"What exactly was the reason you guys broke up?" He whispers.

I smile sadly at him. "I'm gay. Ginny and I obviously had sex, otherwise she couldn't have gotten pregnant, but it never felt right to me."

The next 15 or questions aren't near as deep as the once he asked already so far. Just random questions like "what's your favorite color?" and "What's your favorite drink?"

For the last question Draco really seems to be taking his time. After a couple of minutes of thinking he finally looks up at me again, an unsure smile on his face. "How would you feel about me kissing you?"

To say this question shocked me, would be an understatement. My mouth drops open, for a moment I don't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that." He drops his legs off my thighs before getting up and heading for the living room. Just as he's about to leave the room I grab his arm, preventing him from leaving.

"I'm not sure. I think you'll have to kiss me first before I can actually answer that question." Before I very well realise it his lips are on mine, kissing me softly. I pull him closer to me and kiss back.

If he had bothered to ask me afterwards how I felt, I would've told him that it made me the happiest man alive, and that I really could get used to having him kiss me.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Author's note**: The story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

To say that kiss fixed it all would be a lie. In fact the first week after the kiss we kind of avoided each other like the plague, not knowing what to say to each other, or how to act around each other. Eventually Draco was the one who found the courage to deal with it.

_Flashback_

I shoot up in my bed as my bedroom door flies open, banging loudly against the wall, reveiling one very pissed of blond man. "When exactly do you plan on talking to me again?" There's a slight slur in his voice, obviously he's been drinking _again_.

"Draco, it's like..." I look at the watch around my wrist "three am. Can we talk about this tomorrow morning?" I drop my head on my pillow, expecting him to just turn around and leave.

"No we will not talk about this tomorrow! We will talk about this now!" He crosses the room and plops down on the bed next to me. "I'm a mess! I can't sleep, I've been drinking every night since then, and it's like you don't even care." With those words I do look up.

"Draco, I do care. I just thought you regretted it and didn't want me near." By now he's lying down next to me on top of the sheets.

"I do want you near. I want to be able to hold you and kiss you and fu-"

"Stop right there. Listen, why don't you sleep this out, huh? We will talk about this tomorrow, when you're sober." He nods and gets up before starting to take of his clothes. "Uh... Dr- Draco what exactly are you doing?" He looks up at me, with a blank face. Obviously not realising what he could possibly be doing wrong.

"I'm staying here. I'm not leaving your side before we've talked this over. You need to fix me, Potter." Groaning I roll over to the side of the bed, giving him just enough room to lay down comfortably.

_End flashback_

That was only a couple of hours ago. I just woke up and instead of finding Draco nicely on his side of the bed, he's got his arms draped around me, his face pressed against my back. Hell, even our legs are tangled together! Who would've thought that Draco Malfoy loves to cuddle.

I sigh deeply, and rub my eyes tiredly. Apparently my moving must have woken him up as well, because next thing I know he pulls me even closer against him and kisses my shoulder blade. "Can we talk now?"

I push myself away from him a bit and turn around so I'm actually facing him. His eyes are still firmly closed - obviously he's trying to block out the stray of sunlight that's falling on his face. "Yeah, we can talk now." I lay down on my back waiting for him to start talking. But instead of doing so he puts his head on my shoulder, his mouth lingering awfully close to my neck, and puts his arm on my chest. We just stay like that for a couple of minutes before he finally breaks the silence.

"This is nice." I nod, not knowing what else to say. I run my fingers through his hair.

"How do you really feel about me, Draco?"

He lifts his head, looking me straight in the eye. "What do you mean?"

"What are your intentions?" I sigh heavily, rubbing my eyes again. "if this is just a fling, if you just want to get laid, then I'm not up for this. I want the real thing."

He nods and drops his head on my shoulder again. "That's good, because I want the real thing too." With those words he kisses my neck softly.

Just then a loud knock echoes through the entire house.

"Dam it, who the hell could that be this early in the morning?" I chuckle softly at that.

"Draco, it's already past noon."

I watch him slowly put on his trousers from yesterday again, and pull my shirt over his head. "I'll be back once I manage to ditch the intruder." I smile at him and watch him leave the room.

I once again stare at the ceiling, wondering how all of this could happen. It seems like only yesterday that I was sitting in my so-called house in the middle of nowhere all by myself. And now I'm lying in the softest bed I've ever slept in and waiting for a hot blond man to join me again. What a difference... Not that I'm complaining though! I could seriously get used to this!

When Draco still hasn't returned after half an hour, I start getting concerned. I put on my own trousers and Draco's button-up shirt - since he ran off with mine - and leave the room. As I reach the stairs leading to the main hall I hear Draco's voice - obviously pissed off. The person he's talking to has a voice that's a lot softer. I can't understand a word of what he or she is saying.

I take a couple of steps down the stairs, deciding to sit down about half way.

"The deal is off. I don't want to ever see you here again. And I seriously doubt he ever wants to see you again." Is he referring to me? And what deal?

"Malfoy, you promised Ron! You promised you'd make it all up to us, by bringing him back! By making him happy again!" I now easily recognise Hermione's voice.

"He is happy! Without you lot in his life." Why are they talking about me? And what's with that deal? He promised Ron?

"Will he still be happy when he founds out about all this?"

"First of all: he won't find out. And second: I truly love him so I will do everything in my power to keep him happy."

"You love him? That was not part of the deal. All you had to do is bring us back the happy Harry we once knew."

He brought me here for a deal... a stupid deal he made with Ron and Hermione. I push myself up off the ground and walk down the rest of the stairs, coming to a halt right behind Draco. Hermione's face turns sickly pale as she sees me standing there. I hear Draco swallowing thickly before he turns around and looks at me.

"Harry-"

"Don't... don't even bother trying to explain. I'm leaving." With that I run up the stairs again and head to my room, before starting to pack my stuff.

"Harry, wait! I really love you! You must've heard that right?" I turn around furiously to face him. Tears are streaming down my face.

"Yes, I heard that. But I also heard that the original plan was to make me "the happy Harry we once knew" again and then what? Drop me off at the Weasleys again?" He looks down at his feet for a second before looking up again. He too has tears in his eyes now, furiously trying to hold him back.

"I really love you. And I wasn't going to go on with it."

"When... when did you promise all that to them?" I plop down on the bed. It's like all the energy has suddenly left my body.

"Ron and I went out drinking one day, not too long after you had suddenly disappeared. They never told me what happened, all I knew is that they were sure you weren't going to show up again in the near future. Ron made me promise, if anything ever happened to him, I had to find you and bring you back so you could take care of Hermione." He sits down next to me and wipes the tears off his cheeks. "Ron must've told Hermione about it, because the day after Ron his accident Hermione showed up here, demanding that I keep up my promise. I wasn't going to. But when I saw you at the funeral... I just had to ask you to stay. Not for them." He laughs humorously. "Never for them. But for me. I've liked you for a while, you know that?"

I shake my head furiously. "You should've told me this before. It's too late. You've lost my trust."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Author's note**: The story's mine. The characters aren't. They belong to JK Rowling.

As Draco desperately tries to explain the situation to me, I continue shoving my clothes violently into my bag. How could he? With everything I told him, he of all people should know that I hate it when someone betrays me. And that's exactly what he did. He betrayed my trust, therefore he betrayed me.

"God damned, Harry! Look at me!" My head snaps up, so I'm facing him. I desperately hold back a sob as I see his blood-shot eyes, the trembling hand in front of him mouth, his face even paler than usual. "I love you. I'm _in_ love with you."

"Don't say that." I shake my head, looking down at the shirt I'm holding. "Don't say that. You're only hurting me more, and you'll only hurt yourself more that way." A look of confusion appears on his face.

"How could it possibly hurt me more? It's the truth. Love isn't supposed to be a feeling that hurts."

"But it is! Don't you see Draco! It does hurt! It always has and always will. Love can be a beautiful thing, but eventually it will hurt. You can't prevent that. And it's better that it hurts now than in a couple of months when we're really used to each others company."

"You're not making sense." I sit down on the bed and hold the shirt closer to my chest.

"I can't stay, Draco. I won't stay. If I stay now, and things get messed up later on it'll only hurt more. Don't you see, Draco? We're not meant to be together? First of all, there's way too much history between us, and second... I just don't belong in the wizarding world anymore... People forgot about me, and the ones who haven't only want me back for their own cause. I don't want to belong here anymore. And what are you with a boyfriend who won't even show his face in public." My voice now now hardly loud enough to be heard.

Draco kneels down in front of me, his left hand resting on my knee, his left forsing my head so I'm looking at him again. "Do you believe me when I tell you that I didn't want anything to do with that stupid promise I made? At least, not since you've really moved in here?" I shrug trying desperately to look away, without any success.

"I don't know what to think anymore." I hear Draco's breath hitch, a tear slides down his cheek. I really have to strain myself from not brushing it away, because that would _really_ mess things up.

"I want you to stay, Harry. I really do. I want to prove that you can trust me"

"It's not just that! Haven't you been listening to anything I've said. I don't want to be in the wizarding world anymore! I've had it with people always expecting stuff from me, and when they don't expect anything from me, they don't want anything to do with me. Like I have some kind of curse hanging around me. I just can't seem to have normal friends. I thought I had them, I thought Ron and Hermione really liked me, but apparently they didn't even like me for just me. I was just in their way when it came down to it..."

"I like you for who you are." I suddenly feel extremely tired. I'm sick of having to keep explaining myself to Draco, I'm sick of having to fight that blasted hand that's still holding my face, I'm sick of having people stomp on my heart.

I close my eyes for a split second and bite my lip even harder to not start sobbing all over again.

"I know you do, Draco." I'm not sure I just said that because I really do know that, or because I want him to stop trying to convince me. "You just can't stop all the other stuff that's driving me to the edge."

"I'll do everything to make you happy. Believe me, I'd die for you, if that would put a smile on that pretty face of you!" His right hand is now also placed on my knee.

"Would you leave the wizarding world for me?" I breathe in shakily. "Would you leave everything behind you've built up here just for me?"

"Of course I would." The flicker of doubt in his eyes contradicts his words. I shake my head slowly, now fully staring in his eyes.

"No you wouldn't." With that I push him away softly, get up and slowly start packing again.

"Where would you go? You have it good here, Harry! Why can't you see that?"

"I do see that! And that's what's scaring the hell out of me!" I wasn't supposed to say that...

"What?" And there's the confusion again.

"It's scares the hell out of me that things are good here. This little promise you made with Ron and Hermione, that's only the tip of the iceberg, Draco. It's the way everything always go. It starts with tiny problems that I can look over, but eventually everything just comes falling down, screwing up the happy life I had. This is not meant to be!"

"You didn't think so when we just woke up."

"I hadn't seen that blasted tip of the iceberg then yet. I thought I finally had found something that might just work out. I've been here for a while now, and none of those tiny problems had occurred yet and now... now that I really gave it a go... there's that stupid tip."

"Life does not follow some kind of pattern. It's not because things went that way in the past, that it will this time."

"Yes it will! I'm sick of getting hurt! And I..." I stop talking, looking down at my hands again.

"And what?" I look up at him, once again with tears in my eyes.

"And I'm sick of hurting other people..." I shove my last shirt in my bag before closing it. "Give it up, Draco. Just accept it. I'm leaving."

With those words I pick up my bag and walk out of the room, desperately trying to hold my sobs back until I'm outside. Just before I close the front door behind me I hear Draco yell: "If you ever change your mind, I'm waiting for you, Harry!"

**_The End_**

--

_Well, that was it. I hope you guys enjoyed it!_

_I also really want to thank the people who reviewed! Because of you I continued this until the end ) So thanks guys!_

_x_


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